The Goblin Groom has led the van
O’er hill and dale, through grove and glen;
And as the breast-high scent they ran,
Nor yawning ditch nor boggy fen,
Nor thickset-hedge, nor strong built wall,
Could stop his bold career;
His Elfin Steed disdained to fall,
And dashed impetuous at them all,
Determined each to clear.
And thus he hilter skilter flew,
And distanced all the huntsmen-crew;
Whilst much they wondered such a steed
So well could leap and take the lead.
XVI.
From lordly Twizel’s wide domain,
An opener country now they gain;
No longer dells obstruct the sight:
The fields were large, the soil was light;
The eager hounds increase their pace;
The gallop now becomes a race:
But vain it were for horse to try
To race with one that seemed to fly:
And oft the Goblin looked in rear
As if he sought great D— —h’s Peer:
For be it known, and it is true,
The Goblin honoured bold B— —h;
And had he come t’enjoy the chace,
The Goblin sure had slacked his pace;
For, Goblin as he was, he knew
Respect to rank is always due.
XVII.
Past Duddo’s black and ruined tower
The hard pressed Fox has bent his way;
Past Etal’s town and Etal’s bower,
Which in the neighb’ring valley lay:
Climbed they the hills so steep and fair,
Which over Ford’s proud castle stare;
And pleased was every eye, I ween,
Whilst glanced along the princely scene.
The castle first attracts the eye,
In all her ancient majesty:
Meandering Till’s impetuous flow,
Runs wildly in the vale below;
And mountains bleak, and hills of green,
Diversify the giant scene.
Such is the wide domain and hall
Of John the Peer of Delaval.
XVIII.
And now the country bleaker grew,
As to the upland grounds they drew;
A barren waste, so bleak and drear,
Is seen on every side:
No objects to the sight appear
The eye to glad, or heart to cheer,
In all the desert wide.
The ocean blue, with clustered isles,[10]
The only feature here that smiles;
Here glouring[11] o’er the German flood,
Bare Barmoor’s baby castle stood,
With pallid face of new built woe,
Sad contrast to the moor below.
The owner saw the hounds run by,
And, from a tower, joined in the cry;
Wondered he much who it could be
That led the joyous revelry:
To right, or left, the leading hound,
The Goblin Groom was always found.
“Oh!” cried the squire of Barmoor bare,
“Oh! like yon Elf, that I were there!”
Amazement seized his soul to find
The others were a mile behind.
XIX.
From Barmoor’s bare and shrubless hill,
The hounds have doubled back to Till,
And seem to make for Chiviot hill.
Ah! hapless Fox, and dost thou know,
That fated Flodden lies below;
And does not dark foreboding fear
Warn thee that fated Flodden’s near;
And art thou doomed so soon to yield
Thy life on Flodden’s fated field.